


Hogwarts' Public Secret

by Jeldenil



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Force Bond Shenanigans, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-23 06:16:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16153313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeldenil/pseuds/Jeldenil
Summary: A mysterious book is getting passed around in Hogwarts. In it, students write their theories about what'sreallygoing on between Draco and Harry. Of course, books such as this one are never going to be harmless.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this work has taken me over a year to complete thanks to work, a broken laptop and a serious writers block. That it was completed at all is for a very big part thanks to my wonderful betas, [GodlyDevastation](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GodlyDevastation) and [Icarusinflight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icarusinflight). Thank you so much!

Almost everyone knew of the secret book about Potter and Malfoy. Rumour had it that it was first started by a romantic Ravenclaw, who passed it on to her Gryffindor friend, but nobody would admit to being the one who wrote the now famous first line. _Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are totally in love._  
Whoever it was, they'd since been met with nothing but approval, and keen observers wrote down every detail about the suspected couple they noticed.

 

-Harry was talking about Malfoy again, I heard him say his name to Hermione and Ron. Ron rolled his eyes and Hermione shook her head. They are so fed up with him.  
-Draco keeps staring at Potter. He stared at him for twenty seconds straight during breakfast. I counted. Get over it already.  
-Did you see what happened in Potions today? If that wasn't a cry for attention, I don't know what it was.  
-I am positive Ginny Weasley is a beard.  
-Pansy says Draco kisses like a wet cloth. He's not into it. At. All.  
-Have you noticed how Harry always tries to fix his hair when Malfoy's near?  
-Draco spent two days trying to make a song about Potter.  
-I am about ready to push their stupid faces together.

 

Eventually, the remarks evolved into elaborate theories about the duo's suspected secret love life, illustrated by lively and sometimes rather explicit sketches on every other side of the page. It was common knowledge that the only students who didn't actually know about the book's existence, were Potter and Malfoy themselves.

 

It was an accident waiting to happen.

 

“What do we have here, my sweet?” The breathless caretaker muttered, picking up a thick notebook that lay abandoned in the hallway as a group of students hastily retreated around a corner.  
“Illegal publications?”  
His hideous cat hissed at him, her head tilted with a knowing expression in her soulless eyes.  
“My oh my, the headmistress will surely let me hang them in the dungeons for this....”  
He cackled elatedly as he looked at the scandalous images.  
“An abomination!”  
Filch shuffled up the hallway, making his way to the stairwell. A whooping noise sounded and he was knocked off his feet by a heavy sack of flour, covering the poor old man head to toe in white powder.  
A familiar cackle echoed through the castle hallways.

 

“Woooooooooo!!! It's been centuries since I read good pornography!”

 

Who knew Peeves could be such a _romantic._


	2. Chapter 2

The following day, students were treated to loud, dramatic readings of The Book, accompanied by Peeves' trademark farting sounds and an occasional shower of rose petals.  
The poltergeist loved it. He immediately took to tracking down and chasing the two students in question, abandoning his usual random tormenting of ickle first years and exasperated prefects. Malfoy and Potter tried to flee him, acutely aware of what was apparently shared about them by the entire bloody school, but to no avail. Peeves found them everywhere they went, and pelted them with roses. Not just petals. Roses, complete with stems. And thorns.  
“I blame you, Potter,” Malfoy sneered as he encountered Harry during a particular run from Peeves, dodging through the lesser used hallways, right after dinner.  
“If you'd just kept your pathetic little crush on me to yourself-”  
"BLONDIE AND POTTY SITTING IN A BUSH! IF YOU WANT THEM TO KISS, WE GOTTA GIVE THEM A PUSH!" Peeves screamed, driving them into a corner and dumping super glue on them.

 

Super glue. They managed to dodge most of it but somehow their cheeks still got stuck together at an angle. As they stupidly ducked towards each other when ambushed. Great. Just fucking great.

 

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Harry said before he started going off again. He was horrified to find his lips so close to Malfoy’s, threatening to brush as the corners of their mouths were practically stuck together. Peeves cackled over their heads, speeding off as they both fired off hexes in his direction. Harry pointed his wand at their faces to try and free them, but before he could say the incantation, Malfoy slapped his hand away.  
“Do not point that thing in my direction, Potter!” he warned, and this time his lips actually did brush Harry's. “Knowing your clumsy spell work, you'd risk hexing my face off, and I'm rather attached to it.”

 

“You get us free then,” Harry snapped, trying to ignore the sensation of Malfoy's lips brushing against his own. “If your skills are so superior.”  
And Malfoy tried. He cast a scourgify in the hopes it would remove the superglue from their faces. Then a deletrius, trying to just get rid of the substance completely. His cheeks flushed hot - it’s just the spell - Harry told himself, pushing down all other thoughts.  
“Dammit, Malfoy. Are you going to solve this or what?” He was starting to get annoyed now. The last thing he wanted was to be stuck to his rival. The very last thing. He’d absolutely hate to spend more time with the git than was absolutely necessary. Harry looked away, focusing instead on the paintings in the hallway. He almost wished he hadn’t when he saw what they were doing — they were all staring, whispering amongst themselves, occasionally pointing and laughing in their direction — leaving no question as to what the subject of their amusement was.  
“Why don't you make yourself useful and get a professor?” He suggested to the portrait of a giggly girl in an old-fashioned bathing suit. She blushed, nodded and ran away, spurred into action by Harry's cold stare. Or so he told himself. He prayed to Merlin she was doing that, and not running off to gather more observers for their precarious situation.

Every minute they were stuck together felt like hell, and Harry couldn't have been more relieved when McGonagall showed up. Upon seeing the boys, she rolled her eyes dramatically and held out her wand.  
“Mr Potter, Mr Malfoy, I hope you have good reasons for your shenanigans.” She waved her wand and tried several separation spells, none of which had any success  
“It was Peeves, Professor,” Malfoy’s voice went higher, taking on the annoying tone that always came out when he was whining, and Harry wanted to roll his eyes at him. “He deserves to get permanently banned for this. When my father gets word...”  
“Are you sure you want your father to get word about your situation and the... cause of that situation, Mr Malfoy?” McGonagall asked, and Harry could swear he saw her lips quirk up in a vague smile. From Harry’s close up angle he could see the colour drain from Malfoy's face, his pale skin turning a few shades lighter, paler than Harry would have thought possible. He sputtered something even Harry, being so close to him, couldn't decipher.  
“That's what I thought.” Professor McGonagall nodded. “It seems that I will have to send you to the infirmary. Perhaps Poppy will know a remedy.”

“Oh no,” Harry groaned as soon as they were out of earshot of McGonagall, awkwardly making their way to the hospital wing with their heads stuck together.  
"I hope Madam Pomfrey can fix this quickly. We can't stay like this," Harry took a moment to consider the possibility, when a thought occurred to him. "If she can't separate us, we'll have to share a bed together!"  
“You don't say, Potter. And how would you have supposed to spend a night stuck together if not in the infirmary? On the floor?”  
“Oh, I don't know, Malfoy. We could sit on a sofa or something.”  
“I'm sure you are used to compromising your health, Potter, but I am a Malfoy. I have certain standards, unlike you, obviously. I refuse to lose out on my sleep because of your concerns about sharing a bed.”  
“Don’t start Malfoy. You almost sound like you want to share a bed with me.”  
“Oh shut up, Potter, and get over yourself.”  
“Look who's talking, you have a stick so far up your ass I’m surprised you can still bend over.”  
They bickered all the way to the infirmary, even though it took them twice as long as it should have to reach it, their progress hampered by their situation, and the students who blocked their progress as their all gathered to catch a look of the duo. When they finally arrived, Harry was so annoyed he was considering wrapping his fingers around Malfoy's mouth just to shut off his incessant whining. He could barely feel even a hint of sympathy for the other boy, even as he hunched awkwardly to accommodate Harry's height.

 

“Gentlemen,” Madam Pomfrey looked as stern and professional as always, but Harry thought he could see an amused twinkle in her eyes nonetheless.  
“Sit down.” She pointed at a stretcher, and the boys reluctantly sat down — the movement was difficult and awkward, and they ended up seated too close for Harry's liking.  
“Right, let's resolve this little problem right away.” She pointed her wand at their faces and before Malfoy could even open his mouth to object, cast a diffindo. Harry heard a loud cracking sound tear through the air and felt a gush of wind pass between his cheek and Malfoy's, but when he moved his head aside, Malfoy exclaimed in protest.  
“Ouch! Potter, are you trying to rip my face off?” They were still stuck together. Madame Pomfrey narrowed her eyes.  
“I was afraid for this. He used Zonko's Superb Sticking Solution...” She grumbled. “You have to cast a diffindo within one minute of getting it on the wrong surface or the glue will start fusing the components together...”

 

Harry was torn between triumphantly sneering 'I told you so,' to Malfoy and freaking out. Fusing? What? Would their faces fuse together? What about the rest of their bodies? He didn't want that! He wanted to be himself! In his own body, with his own face!  
“Can... can the fusion be stopped?” Malfoy was asking, and his voice sounded surprisingly calm. He was being more rational about it than Harry could be. “Until you find a way to separate us?”  
“I'll put a local stasis spell on the affected area” Madam Pomfrey mused. “And send an owl to St Mungo's for advice. This is something that needs careful handling.”  
“I'll kill that pesky poltergeist,” Malfoy muttered darkly. “He's gone too far this time.”  
“I don't think he can be killed, seeing as he’s a manifestation,” Harry offered with somewhat of a grin despite their predicament. “But I'm all in for getting back at him with a vengeance once this is solved.”  
“I didn't think you'd have it in you, Potter,” Malfoy answered, sounding surprised, and maybe even a bit impressed. “What with all of your talk of unity lately.”  
“Oh, shut up, Malfoy, we aren’t that different. I almost got sorted into Slytherin, you know.” Harry grinned, elbowing the other in a playful manner. He froze, elbow still brushing against Draco’s side. The movement had felt natural at the time, but he hadn’t intended to do it, and now that he had he felt a little shocked at himself. Were they really up for friendly banter? Had that really just happened? Next to him he heard Malfoy gasp and mutter incredulously under his breath. It was satisfying.  
“Ahem.” The noise pulled their attention back to Madam Pomfrey who was watching them, her expression almost puzzled for a moment, before rearranging itself into her usual professional neutrality.  
Harry suppressed a groan. Not her too. She lifted their chins and put her wand on the point where their faces were, apparently, fusing. A tingling sensation spread over Harry's cheek, before it went numb. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, but at least he didn't feel overheated in the area any more. They watched as the nurse transfigured one of the hospital wing's beds for them to fit in together - making a pillow that'd support both their heads in the awkward position they were in - and muttered a thanks when she drew the curtains around them before hurrying off to send her owl.


	3. Chapter 3

“Now what,” Harry said - or tried to at least, but it came out sounding more like “wowwhah,” the numbness in his cheek stifling the words. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Malfoy rolling his own eyes. The blond didn't even attempt to speak, but just started to undo his tie and open his shirt. Harry couldn't help the sharp intake of breath he had to let pass his lips, but he promised himself to remain as stoic as his rival henceforth. So he just mimicked Malfoy's motions- not that there was much choice, given their current situation. They were trapped by their positions, and the only way they were able to move was to coordinate their actions, reminding Harry of the three legged races he’d once run in school - or tried to, he’d always been too small to synchronise with any of the other students. Harry could only hope neither of them would have to use the loo any time soon. It was rather amazing how they seemed able to communicate without words, answering each other's body language to the point where they were both in briefs, laying on their backs together. Harry pulled the sheet over them both and tried not to think about Malfoy's closeness. Or how they were both pretty much naked. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, like Hermione had taught him. In. Count to four. Out. Count to seven. Next to him, Malfoy shifted, and Harry felt goosebumps crawl over his arm where the other's almost touched.

 

Except that now there were no external distractions, it was impossible to ignore that their faces were too close for comfort and even with the -admittedly very supportive- pillow, Harry didn't think he could get used to it. He could feel Malfoy's breath against his lips, and briefly panicked whether his own breath smelled bad or not. A noise dragged Harry from his absurd line of thoughts, something which sounded like a typical annoyed Malfoy huff, causing Harry to hold his breath. He held his breath for as long as he could, but eventually he had to give in to the need to breath, so he settled for breathing through his nose. It seemed to work for a moment, until Harry realised it had created a new problem - Malfoy's scent. It was more than just one thing, a combination of scents which Harry inhaled with every breath. Malfoy's breath didn't smell foul in the slightest; it smelled like mint toothpaste, something Harry had to admit he quite liked. There was something else as well - Draco wore some kind of subtle perfume or aftershave that reminded Harry of playing Quidditch - fresh and spicy and maybe a little wild.

It was weird laying there and inhaling Malfoy's scent in silence. Usually Malfoy would be making one of his snarky comments, or complaining about how disgusting he was. Lacking Malfoy’s usual snide remarks, Harry found his curiosity about the other boy consuming his every thought. He was drawn to him. He wanted desperately to reach out and touch Malfoy - either his hand or his cheek - to see whether that would finally break the silence. The urge was nearly overwhelming. Harry wondered what would happen. Would Malfoy let him? Would he yell at him? Would Harry get another, stronger noseful of that enticing scent? He bit his lip and pressed his eyes shut tight, dots flashed across his eyelids, and he tried to focus on them instead, tried to think of anything other than the annoying blond sharing a bed with him. He had a potion essay due in two days- maybe he should ask Malfoy for help. There were going to be Quidditch tryouts next week- he wondered whether they'd both get selected again. How would they react to sharing the dressing rooms- no, stop that line of thinking. It didn't do to think about Malfoy's pale skin or the thin, even paler lines criss-crossing his torso, the scars which hinted at cuts which must have run painfully deep.

Next to him, he thought he felt Malfoy shudder. Harry was still trying to process this when he felt a small, wet drop on his temple. Was - was Malfoy crying? Harry’s brain stalled - what should he do - should he do anything? His first instinct was to pull the other in an embrace, his heart beat almost furiously just at the thought of it. He didn’t know if that was something Malfoy would react well to, before this unfortunate event, they’d rarely touched each other - and certainly never in kindness. Their touches had all been in aggression or with ill intent. The only exception had been one particular lifesaving occasion, something Harry didn’t like thinking of, although he still occasionally woke up feeling Draco had been right behind him, holding on to his hips for dear life and whimpering in terror as they fled the flames. But he wanted to help in some way, wanted to offer some support, or comfort. Bracing for rejection, Harry patted his hand against Draco’s leg lightly, and whispered 'shhh' in what he hoped was a somewhat soothing manner. Amazingly, and seemingly against all logic, it appeared to work, despite how awkward Harry felt. Malfoy shaking receded, his breath calmed, evening out gradually, until Harry thought the other boy must have fallen asleep.

 

With that issue resolved, and Draco sleeping peacefully beside him, Harry turned his mind to his next area of concern, that of his nightly sleep ritual. Being as quiet as he could be, Harry slid a hand down his body, knowing that he just _had_ to have a quick wank if he wanted to sleep at all that night. He knew - he knew he shouldn’t, but there was just no way he’d be able to sleep without it. He pushed his fingers underneath the elastic band of his briefs, the tips brushing over the top of his already painfully hard erection. Now was probably not the best time to figure out that he was indeed, very much attracted to Malfoy, but hell - Harry could just not muster up the will to deny it any longer. He gave his cock an experimental tug, biting his lip and the inside of his cheeks to smother the groan which threatened to fall from his lips. It felt too good to do this next to -a presumably sleeping- Draco Malfoy - like something straight out of a dream. Wrapping his fingers around the base of his dick, Harry gave it slow, deliberate strokes, trying to keep his movements as small as possible. He tried to keep quiet, but he couldn’t help his breaths becoming heavier, and deeper, or the shudders of pleasure going through his body. _Fuck_ , he couldn't remember the last time a wank had felt _this_ good.

He clenched his buttocks, hips jerking up slightly, when he could no longer keep his body still. His face felt heated again, his whole body felt on fire, and he could only hope that Malfoy wouldn't wake up from the heat that felt like it was engulfing him. Beside him, the blond hadn't moved. Maybe his breath had hitched once or twice, maybe he'd stirred, but Harry thought he was still most likely asleep. And God-damn, it was so fucking hot to have him lying _right there_ while Harry wanked. It was twisted, in a good way. Perverse, but oh so delicious. A soft, strangled sound escaped his lips, and Harry sped up his motions. He was getting to the point that he didn't care whether he'd wake Malfoy up any more. Perhaps he even _wanted_ him to wake up, to notice, to _know_.

His free hand, the one closest to Malfoy, snuck up, the fingers playing with his nipple while the motions became furious and his hard breaths turned into moans. He could feel his balls drawing up, and seconds later, the release spurted over his hand and torso. The sound that escaped him sounded suspiciously like Malfoy's name - but Harry didn't have any energy left to feel embarrassed. He was instantly, completely, and utterly relaxed, falling asleep barely a second later. If the pureblood had woken up, he hadn’t noticed.


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning, as light filtered through the curtain around their bed, Harry found he was surprisingly clean – no trace left of what he'd done the previous night. Awkwardly checking from the corners of his eyes, he noticed Malfoy staring right back at him. And managed to pronounce a perfectly polite and articulate, “Morning, Potter.”

If Harry wasn't mistaken, the git was gloating. Harry felt his cheeks heat up, and it was more frustrating than ever to be stuck to the blond. He wanted to look away. He wanted to feel confident he could reply without sounding like he was simultaneously swallowing a Yorkshire Pudding. And by Merlin, he wanted to take a leap of faith and kiss the prat right on his arrogant mouth. But kissing was out of the question from this angle, even with their mouths this close together. So Harry settled for staring back, despite his flush, not saying a word. He didn't know how long they just laid there, looking intensely at each other from the corners of their eyes, before Madam Pomfrey's footsteps approached and she opened the curtains.

“Good morning, gentlemen, I hope you both had a good night's rest?”

“I didn't sleep for a wink, I'm afraid, Miss Pomfrey. Potter snores.”

Harry groaned and rolled his eyes, trying to look exasperated. But judging Madam Pomfrey's face, she wasn't buying it.  
“Well, if you would get out of bed and clothed, a delegation from St Mungo's will arrive before breakfast. I suppose you prefer eating as individuals.”

“That would be wonderful,” Malfoy said dryly. “Potter can't even speak without sounding like a blabbering monkey. More than he usually does, I mean.”

“It's touching that you're so concerned, Mister Malfoy,” Madam Pomfrey said with a smile.

Harry kept quiet, but he resolved to kiss Malfoy even harder for that remark. Once they were free, of course. They dressed quickly, once again in perfect harmony. Harry's attention was drawn away from the blond when the delegation from St Mungo's entered the room; a tiny doctor who turned out to be Professor Flitwick's sister was accompanied by a male nurse who introduced himself nervously as Parvati and Padma's cousin Najeeb. Harry was still getting used to the fact that so many people in the Wizarding world seemed to be related to each other. He didn't dare to try and say anything, but he flashed a - probably slightly lopsided - smile at them. He appreciated their help.

“Now let's see,” Doctor Flitwick squeaked, standing on a stool to examine their fused faces. “Ah yes, a classic but rare condition. I don't blame you for not being able to separate them, Poppy. The surfaces seem to like being connected.” Najeeb let out a nervous little laugh, earning himself an undignified stare from Malfoy.

“I'm afraid you both will have a permanent reminder of this incident after the treatment, gentlemen.” Harry swallowed. As if they didn't have scars enough.

“Najeeb here is a very talented hypnotist. He will put you both in a trance which will allow me to cut the surfaces loose. It's important that you stay semi-conscious for it, otherwise it won't work. Hence the hypnosis.”

“Wait, you have to cut us, and the damage will be permanent? Like in Muggle healing?” Malfoy sounded horrified. Harry couldn't exactly blame him – after all the boy was used to solving every problem he had with magic. And maybe some bluff. Acting on instinct, Harry grabbed his hand. Malfoy froze, but he didn't pull away. Madam Pomfrey and Doctor Flitwick smiled. Najeeb let out another nervous little laugh.

“It won't exactly be as crude as Muggle healing, Mister Malfoy. I'll use magic to cut you apart, and of course, Najeeb will take care that you won't feel any pain. The scarring is something I'm afraid even magic could not prevent. Which I would think you'd be well aware of by now.”

Harry huffed quietly. He didn't need the reminder. Malfoy surprised him by gently squeezing his hand. He squeezed back, instantly feeling better.

“Alright, if you both are ready, please look at my wand and listen to my voice,” Najeeb said, sounding a lot calmer now he was working. His wand was emitting a faint pink glow, in which little sparks flitted around. It was rather fascinating and Harry found it easy to focus on. He felt Malfoy's hand relax in his own. Najeeb's voice was soothing, and Harry found his thoughts drift away to pleasant images as the nurse sang instructions to think about what they'd do once their faces would be separated. Harry could feel a burning sensation where Doctor Flitwick was cutting through the fusion, and it smelled rather horrible, but thanks to Najeeb, he didn't feel any pain or fear. He felt giddy, happy, reminiscent of the feeling he got from Felix Felicis, like he could do anything. He imagined snogging Malfoy senseless, and not giving a damn about what anyone would think. He felt how his lips curled up in a smile, and thought he could feel Malfoy doing the same, faintly wondering whether the other was thinking along the same lines as Harry.

Eventually, Najeeb put his wand away. Harry immediately felt his head clear, noticing he could move his face freely again. He let out a relieved breath and stretched, testing his renewed freedom. Glancing sideways, he noticed that Malfoy hadn’t moved. It was almost like he was still slightly entranced. 

“There you go.” Doctor Flitwick beamed at them. “As good as new.”

“Thank you very much, Doctor,” Harry said, finally daring to speak again. To his disappointment, Malfoy let go of his hand. When Harry turned his head to look at him, he didn’t look back. His eyes were focussed on Doctor Flitwick, as studious as if he was in class.

“Let me see the damage,” the blond demanded softly. “I want to see how bad it is.” He was now tentatively touching the area where he'd been attached to Harry for the past twelve hours. Najeeb conjured a mirror for them, and Harry blinked at his reflection. On his left cheek, close to the corner of his mouth, he had a pale patch, as pale as Malfoy's skin, faintly shaped like a heart. Malfoy's scar - on his right cheek - mirrored Harry's, but his was darker, much like Harry's skin colour. It was slightly embarrassing, but then again, had they not been embarrassed in front of the entire school already, what with the book Peeves had found and quoted to them so generously? When he thought about it, it seemed like almost the whole school was on board with them potentially dating. Or at least open to it.

He rather liked his new scar, he decided. Malfoy, on the other hand, seemed none too happy about his. He complained he was 'ugly and malformed' now, something Harry quietly disagreed on. Malfoy could never be ugly. He wanted to tell him that, but it didn’t seem like the right time. Not with an audience. Not when they’d just been cut apart. It took another ten minutes of checks before they were finally cleared and told they were free to go. Harry opened his mouth, to ask Malfoy out, or maybe to tell him about his recent realisation, but the blond got up and left the room before he could find the words. Harry thought he looked rather distressed.


	5. Chapter 5

It was obvious that Malfoy was avoiding him; in the days that followed, Harry didn't see him apart from the occasional glimpse on the school grounds. Malfoy didn't go to meals in the main hall, didn't attend their shared classes. Every time Harry saw him, the blond would quickly turn around and disappear behind a corner. It was deeply frustrating, especially since everyone else kept asking him where Malfoy was. It seemed that everyone assumed they were actually dating now, and even though Ron and Hermione knew that was false, other people kept approaching him to ask about his supposed romance, or to congratulate, or even to warn him about the Malfoy heir.

“I'm telling you, he can't have changed so much that you can trust him, Harry. I mean, look at all the things he's done. I'm sorry, I know you want to believe the best of people.”

“Ginny, please. That’s not what’s happening here.” 

Ginny was the one who'd broken up with him in the first place. Harry didn't understand why she was so concerned about his love life now. He didn't feel like explaining the situation to her either, so he was relieved when Luna barged in and dragged Ginny away to go look at a 'nest of Wrackspurts in the astronomy tower', handing her a pair of spectrespecs. He smiled faintly at the pair as they walked away, half amused and half irritated with what Ginny had implied. It wasn't like he suddenly trusted Malfoy. It was just that he wanted to snog him. Snog him a lot. They would figure out what to do about their status later.

But Malfoy didn't seem like he was going to cooperate with the plan. Harry didn’t want to stalk him through the castle again – that just didn't feel right anymore. He didn't want to ask his friends for advice this time, either. His friends didn’t have the best track record with relationships. Ron and Hermione were only just starting to communicate their feelings. And then there had been the issue of Malfoy crying that night in the infirmary. What was up with that? Harry wracked his brain, but the only time he'd seen the other boy cry before had been in Myrtle's bathroom. And it wasn't like he wanted a repeat of that particular scene. On the other hand, if he wanted to get advice, Myrtle might provide it. She had done so before, and after all, she and Malfoy had developed a friendship of sorts. He felt a little proud of thinking of asking Myrtle, but it'd have to wait. His potions class was starting, and he was awfully behind in the class.

With Malfoy avoiding him, Harry had resorted to his old reliable source of information on school work; Hermione. She'd lectured him about his lack of preparation, as always, but still helped him write the essay. But it was clear he'd need to start paying attention to class. It wasn't an easy feat; as always they shared the class with the Slytherins, and Malfoy’s empty seat was right in front of him, distracting him with thoughts of the blond. He could almost hear his sneer, telling everyone who wanted to hear it how his skills were superior to any Gryffindor's, especially Harry's. Where was the git? The few Slytherins who had returned for eight year were giving him cold glares, as if they accused him of harming their precious noble. Next to him, Ron and Hermione were pairing up habitually. Harry was left to fend for himself - Neville was working with Dean, since Seamus had not been able to return to the castle due to curse-related injuries and the emotional trauma he had suffered. Dean visited Seamus every weekend though, helping him study at home so he would be able to do the final exams with the rest of their year. Parvati hadn’t returned either, staying at Lavender’s side in St Mungo’s. The two remaining Slytherins, Parkinson and Zabini, were working together. 

“Where’s Malfoy?” Harry whispered at Hermione while they were gathering the ingredients for an anti-paralysis potion. Hermione rolled his eyes. It was the fourth time he’d asked her the same question that day.

“Honestly, Harry, give it a rest. Focus on class.” She whispered back as Harry scooped his ingredients into the tiny wicker basket he was holding. 

With a sigh, Harry returned to his seat and put a scoop of beetle eyes in his kettle, making neat little stacks from his other ingredients to grind, cut and boil later in the process. He focussed on the potion recipe, charming the kettle to stir every 3 seconds; clockwise, counter-clockwise, until he would add the next ingredient; ground dragon horn. He was about to start grounding the block of horn when he felt a cold hand on his arms and heard an awfully familiar voice hiss in his ear.

“Do you wish to blow us all up, Potter? That’s erumpent horn, you buffoon.” 

Draco Malfoy was standing right there, swiping the horn away from him just before Harry’s grounder stomped on the table, hitting the spot where the horn had been sitting in a stone pot just now.

Shit.

Harry colored crimson as Malfoy returned the offending ingredient to the stockpile and slipped into the seat next to Harry’s with the right kind of horn, grinding it up without a word. Like nothing out of the ordinary had ever happened. Like it wasn’t special for him to sit down next to Harry. 

“W-where have you been?” Harry asked softly as he started to cut up ginger root. Malfoy didn’t reply. He barely acknowledged Harry as he proceeded to brew the potion, only holding his hand out for the ingredients Harry prepared, and mumbling spells to adjust the brewing process at the opportune moments.   
They finished second, right after Ron and Hermione, with a high mark for their perfectly brewed result, but Harry hardly cared. 

Malfoy was making his way to the classroom door hastily, and Harry was determined to catch him this time. Ignoring Hermione’s shout of congratulations, and Ron’s reluctant, “Go get him, mate.” Harry pushed his way through his fellow students, right behind the blond. 

“Malfoy, wait!” He called out, and he thought he saw the other boy stiffen. But the next moment, he was walking away again, and Harry ran to keep up with him. They exited the classroom and were making their way through the dungeons, presumably towards the Slytherin common room.

“Malfoy!” 

“Leave me alone, Potter!” Malfoy snapped over his shoulder, speeding up. 

“I have no desire to be part of your little pity party. Get lost.” 

A stab in his heart made Harry falter back a little, but he kept stubbornly trying to overtake Malfoy - not an easy feat considering the Pureblood’s longer legs. Eventually, just feet away from the entrance to the Slytherin dorms, Harry was able to get hold of Malfoy’s sleeve. 

“Listen to me, please!”

The blond yanked his arm free and turned around, apparently seething, judging by the icy grey stare he gave Harry. But Harry noticed something else, too. Malfoy was shaking. 

“You have one minute and not a second more to explain yourself, Potter. Why don’t you start with justifying the nerve to do your… perverted thing while I was forced to sleep next to you?” 

Harry felt like someone had stomped him in the chest. 

“I…”

“Fifty seconds,Potter.” 

Harry felt like his tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth, and when he opened it, no sound came out. 

“Forty seconds.” 

Harry could feel the curious eyes of a small crowd gathering around them.

“Malfoy, I’m sorry, I- shit.” 

“Thirty seconds, and you’re not making a very good case.” 

“Can we please do this somewhere else?”

“No. Twenty seconds.” 

“Okay, to hell with it. I think I like you, Malfoy.”

“You shouldn’t try to think, you’re clearly not too capable of it. Ten seconds.” 

“Oh come on, you fucking twat! I want to ask you out, damn it!”

“That's ridiculous, Potter. You were quite happy to be rid of me in the infirmary. You’re not fooling anyone. Time’s up.” 

And with that, Malfoy strode away, leaving Harry behind with a gaping mound and hollow pain in his stomach. What just happened? 

Vaguely, he became aware of a warm hand awkwardly petting his arm.

“Come on Harry, he’s not worth it.” Came Ron’s voice from a distance. 

He let his friends guide him away, numbly, to the Gryffindor tower. He didn’t feel like ever getting out there again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: POV changes from Harry to Draco from this chapter forward. I chose to retell part of the story from Draco's eyes, just so you know. The story will pick up pace in chapter 7 again.

Potter was an asshole. A right cruel and manipulative jerk. Draco should have known. He should have known better. He could, and should, have protected himself. He wouldn’t have felt this angry, bitter regret, if he had. 

“I should have said I recognized him,” he muttered to Pansy, who had her hand in his hair and was humming soothingly to him.

“I should have watched him get caught, tortured and finished.” 

“Oh darling, you know you don’t mean that,” she scolded him softly.

“You’d be even angrier if you had.” 

“Hmmpf,” he scoffed, not feeling he should dignify her assumption with a response. 

“You know I’m right,”she said calmly, pulling him closer in her lap. 

“Can you shut up about Potter, Parkinson?” Draco whined, pushing her hands away.

“That’s rich, coming from you,” she grinned, as he sat up and crossed his arms over his chest stubbornly.   
“You always go on and on about him.”

“Well, not anymore,” he snapped, angrily Summoning the additional Potions Essay he’d had to write for missing a half week’s worth of lessons, due to Saviour Potter. He’d already revised it thrice and it was probably perfect, but one more time couldn’t hurt. 

“And I’d greatly appreciate it if you don’t mention him around me ever again.”   
“Whatever you want, Draco.” Pansy cooed and he rolled his eyes. She didn’t understand it. Never would. He sighed and tried to focus on his essay, but the words were all a blur - he couldn’t make sense of it. What was more, the black ink only reminded him of Potter’s hair. Cursing under his breath, he threw the offensive essay down and stomped from the common room to the boys’ dorm. He threw himself down on his perfectly made bed and kicked his shoes off, not bothering to undress further. He had a crippling headache - surely that was what caused his eyes to tear up - it had nothing to do with Potter or that cringeworthy display in the hallways. Neither did the pain in his chest and stomach - he must be coming down with something. A shame he’d already spent hours in his dorm pretending to be ill - now he’d just have to battle through the real thing. He watched blankly when Blaise came in around midnight- him being the only other boy in their dorm this year- and sat down on his bed, glancing at Draco. 

“Oh, come off it,” his friend huffed. “You’re such a stubborn arse sometimes, Malfoy.” 

Draco watched in horror as Blaise stood up and approached his bed, conjuring a glass of water and a box of tissues, of all things. 

“Stop sobbing over Potter and do something about it.” 

“So what do you suggest then?” Draco countered, his voice hoarse, and for once too tired to deny he was crying about Potter. “That I get on my knees and profess my undying love for the school to see? Yes, that would go down amazingly.” 

“Don’t be even more of a numbnut than you already are,” Blaise scolded him. “If you don’t want to risk public humiliation, then get hold of Potter alone.” 

“Sure. Because that went incredibly well last time.”

Draco closed his eyes. The night in the infirmary had been an absolute nightmare. Sure, it had started out alright, up until the point where Potter attempted to talk. The ridiculous sound he’d made had terrified Draco. He'd been working up the courage to ask Potter out, but once he'd heard what Potter sounded like under the partial stasis spell, Draco hadn’t dared to try. It would only have lead to further misunderstandings between them. Merlin knew there’d been enough of those already in the past. What more, would Potter even want to listen to him? He was the Golden Boy, after all, and Draco was the ex-Death Eater. Most likely Potter would think Draco was out of his mind for even thinking he had a chance with him. The way he furtively glanced at Draco’s body, implied nothing but repulsion - especially once Draco’s scarring became visible. Scarring he’d caused himself - and scarring Draco felt he’d very much deserved. Once undressed, he hurriedly pulled the sheet over them both, as if he wanted to avoid looking at Draco any longer. They had laid there in silence, and Draco felt his throat choke up with rejection, and he wished the mattress would just swallow him whole as he listened to Potter’s uneven, awkward breaths. He’d been unable to stop the tears, nor the sobs, and had felt Potter freeze when the sound escaped his lips. Potter had responded with soft, almost gentle shushes. Draco’s heart had ached with a sudden flare of hope, and somehow he got a hold of himself, his breaths steadying. 

He'd even started to fall asleep. 

Then Potter started to jerk off.

At first, Draco had been mortified. How could he do such a thing, how could he act like Draco wasn't even there? It was rude. Perverse. It made Draco feel like less than nothing. But when his own body had started to respond, he’d hated Potter even more.

He’d never even dared to dream about being able to witness Potter in such a private, intimate, erotic moment. But yet, it was happening - and Potter didn’t even acknowledge him. Draco struggled to suppress his shivers. To stop a shocked gasp from escaping. It didn’t seem like Potter had noticed him. If anything, he was getting more into it, became more blatant and shameless about what he was doing. Draco only became more hot and bothered by Potter’s wanking. He wondered if he should join Potter, synchronically masturbating like they had synchronically undressed. He fantasized about batting Potter’s hand away and replacing it with his own. He wanted to. But before he could reach a decision on taking such a risk, Potter had come undone. And moaned Draco’s name. His first name.

For a while, Draco had been too stunned to move. It was like he’d stepped into a painful, twisted wet dream. Potter had called him Draco. While he was clearly having a particularly good orgasm. But he hadn’t even looked at him. 

Conflicted, Draco had squeezed and stroked his own painfully hard prick until he, too, came with a muffled cry. All the while looking at the obliviously sleeping Potter from the corner of his eyes. He’d Vanished the evidence of their hormonal outbursts, mulling over what it could mean. Apparently, Potter did feel some attraction towards him, even if it was only in a sexual way. There was potential. He could possibly work with this. He’d only have to get Potter to acknowledge him. 

He’d spent the rest of the night practicing his speech with a numb cheek. If fate was on his side, he’d have some moments alone with Potter once they were both awake. Finally, Draco had dared to feel hope again.

It wasn’t meant to be. As soon as he’d started talking, Madam Pomfrey interrupted. He'd wanted to hex her. Instead, he answered her questions. She introduced them to the medical team and Potter had seemed way too interested in their male nurse for Draco's liking. But just as jealousy threatened to make him say something petty, Potter had grabbed his hand.

It had been the single best moment in Draco's life.

Too bad the circumstances didn't allow for much joy.

The procedure was over quickly. Too quick for Draco. He hadn’t been prepared. He’d just started to enjoy the relaxed, happy trance they’d been put in, images of Potter’s eyes on him dominating his fantasies. But almost instantly, the warm and hopeful sensations faded as Potter’s body moved away from his own and Wonder Boy thanked the doctor for separating them. Draco had pulled back his hand, stung. Why did Potter have to sound so relieved? Why was he in such a hurry to get away from him again? Wh-why did he choose to be a dick to Draco once more? 

He could feel Potter’s eyes on him when Draco inspected his scar. And he felt violated in yet another way. Here he sat, with his heart quite literally on display on his face. And Potter didn’t even acknowledge it. Draco schooled his face into the easy, familiar and distant mask, complained about being malformed, and shut down his feelings. He'd shown quite enough already. 

No matter that Potter had a matching scar of his own. It wasn’t like he’d ever tried to hide the one on his forehead. What difference would another one make? 

It wasn’t like he would be judged for it, like Draco was for his. He would always be shunned for the marks he had - the one the Dark Lord put on him making him an outcast to all the righteous Muggle-lovers, and the ones Potter put on him proof he failed to be a proper pureblood. 

 

Draco didn’t belong anywhere. 

 

Which was fine.

He shouldn’t.

It was foolish to have hope.

He would be fine on his own.

The look Potter gave him was full of pity. Draco didn’t need pity. Before Potter could read his crushed dreams in his eyes, Draco left. 

It took his friends four days to get him to risk facing Potter again. Now here he was, and it didn’t take a day for yet another disaster to happen. For a moment he indulged in the fantasy of having let Potter cut Erumpent horn. He could picture himself picking up a broken pair of glasses from the debris afterwards. Free at last. 

No.

Who was he fooling? Draco looked up at Blaise, who’d been patiently waiting for him to drink his water and finish his bout of self-pity. Sitting up, Draco grabbed the glass and gulped the water down in one go. 

“I’m going to do something about it,” he stated, sounding like he had a plan, which he didn’t. 

“Good. Because I put your name on the list for Auror recruitment coming friday night.”

“You did what?”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because it's a sunday, and this chapter is quite short, I will be adding two chapters today! I hope you'll enjoy them.

It had been a horribly awkward week. Draco had forced himself to attend their shared classes - and every time Potter spotted him, he’d tried to ignore the Saviour’s pained looks. 

They hadn’t spoken - hadn’t even tried speaking to each other after the last time. They didn’t work together on assignments, and for once, their friends didn’t interfere either. Even the teachers seemed to be aware of the precarious stalemate between them, and respected their silent agreement not to get close. 

To Draco’s surprise, Weasley volunteered to work with Blaise during potions, so Granger could sit with Potter and Pansy with him. He couldn’t help but glance over every once in a while, but each time he’d meet Potter’s eyes and look away again. That stupid idiot would never pass this subject if he couldn’t even focus. So Draco would have to show him how it was done. He looked at the scarab beetles he was supposed to weigh and add, and to his horror, realized there weren’t nearly enough to achieve the effect they were aiming for. He’d have to get up and retrieve more from the cupboard. That never happened before, and was sure to distract Potter again.

“Pansy,” he pleaded in a whisper, “We need more beetles. Can you get me a scoop?” His friend looked at him with a blank expression. 

“You just added three tablespoons, have you already forgotten? Stop staring at Potter and focus, you hopeless damsel.” Draco scowled at her, mortified at having forgotten what he’d just done - but Pansy was right.

“I’m not a damsel,” he shot back, eloquent as always. 

“Of course you’re not,” Pansy smirked. “Now help me with the next stage.”


	8. Chapter 8

Somehow, he made it through the day without screwing up again. Their potion got a good grade, and after that followed Arithmancy, which Potter didn’t take, Charms with Ravenclaw and History of Magic with the Hufflepuffs. Draco’s nerves were on edge through dinner, and he hardly managed to eat a thing. Tonight he was expected to join an Auror Recruitment meeting, absurd as it was - just to get a chance to speak to Potter alone. He had spent the past few days revising defensive spells, magical theory, and basically anything he thought he might need. 

It took him an hour to decide on a definitive outfit - not too casual and not too impractical - picking a grey cotton shirt and borrowing a pair of black jeans from Blase, charmed to fit, completed with his sturdiest dragon leather boots. It’d have to do. He slowly made his way to the third floor, where an unused wing was reserved for the recruitment. 

He was the last to arrive, the room filled with a bunch of eager Gryffindors (besides, naturally, Potter, Longbottom and Weasley had showed up too), a handful of Hufflepuffs - Bones and Abbot, along with Smith - and a gaggle of Ravenclaws Draco didn’t recall the names of. Draco was the only Slytherin to turn up, earning himself some raised eyebrows and suspicious whispers. He ignored them and stared stoically at his feet, questioning his plan, and wondering how on earth this would help him to get Potter alone. 

 

The Recruiters, consisting of Head Auror Robards and two of his substitutes, eyed the group of eight years appraisingly. Someone crossed off their name from a list as they waited nervously for their instructions. Once everyone was accounted for, Robards stepped forward.

“Thank you, everyone, for signing up. Being an Auror is a rewarding but dangerous occupation. If you’re easily scared or tend to panic, this job is probably not for you. Today we will make a start deciding whether or not you have what it takes. You will be divided into duos, and face a series of confrontations monitored by trained aurors. We trust all of you to be able to overcome the creatures you encounter, but each team will get an emergency portkey back to safety just in case. Now. Tascha, will you be so kind…?”

Tascha, a witch in her forties with curly black hair, stepped forward and started to call out names. Longbottom was paired with Abbott, Smith with Goldstein (thát was his name, Draco thought), and Weasley with Bones. 

That left only him and Potter, and the two Ravenclaw girls. 

“Draco Malfoy and Sue Li, Harry Potter and Lisa Turpin, you’re the last pairs.” Li paled, but didn’t protest, much to Draco’s chagrin. Here he was, his chance slipping away from him, and he couldn’t possibly doing anything about it without looking rude.

“Excuse me, Ma’am, but I would like to switch teams - I think I’m the best option to keep an eye on Malfoy,” Potter’s voice cut through Draco’s thoughts. Draco bristled. The presumptuous git!

There was some discussion, and Draco overheard Robards asking Potter whether he was sure, but eventually they were allowed to pair up. Draco couldn’t help but glare at Potter, who just grinned back sheepishly. The Golden Boy was handed their portkey, of course, like Draco could be trusted with anything. It was an old hairbrush, and Draco wrinkled his nose in disgust. Maybe it wasn’t so bad that he wasn’t the one who had to keep it on him. 

And then it was time for their trials to start. 

They were left in a darkened classroom, so dark that they couldn’t see each other. 

“Stay close to me,” whispered Potter. “I’ve been in situations like this before.”

Draco rolled his eyes, tempted to make a scathing remark about Potter’s arrogance. He was acting like he had a monopoly on facing dark magic. But he didn’t want to compromise his plan, or risk annoying potter yet, so Draco held his tongue, keeping a firm hold on his wand. It was quiet, too quiet. 

Draco wondered whether their recruiters were still nearby. And if so, how they could keep an eye on their proceedings in the pitch black darkness. Unexpectedly, he felt a strong lurch in his stomach, and judging by the way Potter gasped and reached for him in the darkness, he had the same sensation. They were being Apparated out of virtual nowhere, but where to? 

“Shit,” cursed Potter, the very moment they stumbled down upon what appeared to be a desolate, rocky beach.

“Are you hurt?” Draco asked, concerned and unable to suppress it. 

“No, but I know this place.” Potter sounded grim. “Why would they send us here?”

“For us to impress them, obviously,” Draco said dryly. ”We have to show that we’re capable of dealing with whatever this place is.”

“Right.” Potter still sounded grim. Worse, he sounded intimidated. Perhaps even frightened. 

“What’s wrong?” Draco asked, getting slightly annoyed. “Don’t just stand there gawking. Tell me what this place is.”

“A hiding place,” Potter said vaguely, walking towards what appeared to be a crack in the dark, high cliffs surrounding them. “A cavern.”

“A hiding place for what?” Draco pressed, but Potter just shook his head. “It’s gone now. It was found. But the protections remain.” His voice sounded shaky. 

Draco could feel the hairs on his arms and neck stand up as he followed Potter closely, Potter’s fear was starting to rub off on him. 

“What kind of protections?” 

“Inferi.” 

“Potter?!” Draco hated the shrill quality of his voice as he instinctively moved closer. Inferi - the term sent chills down to his bones. Was he really willing to go to these lengths to make sure of Potter’s intentions?   
“Do you know your fire magic?” Potter asked, his face set and his jaw tense. Draco shivered, an image of deadly flames in a closed room - no. 

“I… I know enough.” 

“Good. Stay close to me. We have to swim a short distance.”

“Potter, how do you know about this place?”

“Dumbledore took me here. Now just… let’s get it over with.”

In silence, Draco followed Potter over some rocks until they had to submerge into the foaming sea water. Draco had to focus entirely on his swimming - stroke, breathe, stroke - and the confused questions in his mind took a backseat. His jeans became heavy, and his boots were probably ruined, but finally he made it to the rocks. The moment he emerged, Potter hit him with a drying charm, and led the way into the crevice. 

It was a little distance before they hit a dead end, but Potter put a finger to his lips, closed his eyes in concentration and seemed to repeat an unfamiliar incantation from memory while he touched the wall. The outline of a door appeared - but didn’t become solid.

“The entrance requires a blood sacrifice,” Potter said solemnly, and before Draco could even open his mouth to protest, opened his forearm with a cutting hex. The self-sacrificing berk. Frowning, Draco watched as Potter pressed his bloodied arm against the rock wall. The stone surface seemed to absorb his blood, and Draco blinked when the rock just disappeared, creating a man-sized opening. 

“Do you know how to heal cuts?” Potter held his arm out at Draco, in an unexpected gesture of trust.   
Tapping the skin carefully, Draco focused on the incantation his godfather had taught him after his confrontation with Potter in the bathroom. 

“Thanks.” Potter smiled as his skin closed up neatly, causing Draco to feel inappropriately cheerful butterflies. Really, now? 

It wasn’t long before he landed with both feet on the ground again, as Potter wasted no time entering the cave. Draco found himself accepting his authority without question. He’d said he’d been here before, after all. Still, it was distinctly creepy to follow the other boy inside the dark cave, which just exuded an atmosphere of evil, the kind Draco had felt when in the vicinity of the Dark Lord. 

They found themselves on the banks of a vast, underground lake, illuminated by a magical green glow from an island in the middle. 

“Do we have to-” Draco whispered, but Potter shook his head before he could even finish his question. 

“No, thankfully not. We just need to - give them cause to attack us.”

Draco didn’t like the sound of that.

“I’m going to lure them. Stand by, remember - fire.” Draco nodded dumbly, his breath stuck in his throat, cold sweat running down his spine. To his unimaginable horror, he watched Potter walk boldly to the lake, and stick his freshly healed arm in the dark water. It had an immediate effect - Draco saw a pale hand rise from the depths, and Potter stumbled backwards with significant difficulty as he was grabbed, and the thing that was the owner of the hand tried to pull him under.“Draco, now!”

“C-Confringo!” Draco aimed his wand and a jet of fire shot from its tip, causing the pale, wet arm to burst in an explosion of flames, its owner letting out an eerie, high-pitched wail. There were more coming from the water, and Potter stepped backwards, next to Draco. They both started to fire spells at the attacking hordes. Confringo, Incendio - anything but fiendfyre. But there were dozens - maybe hundreds. Too many for Draco to even count. It was all they could do to keep fighting, spell after spell, for what felt like hours, their arms trembling, their voices hoarse from screaming their incantations. 

At last, when Draco thought he couldn’t pronounce even a lumos anymore, the last animated corpse sank down, its foul stench mixing with those of the others they had burned. Potter sagged against the wall of the cave. 

“Please. The portkey…” he whispered, hardly audible, and Draco had to pat his pockets in search for it. Grabbing Potter’s hand, he held it against the object and activated the spell that would take them back.

They were propelled into that strange, sickening void typical for magical transport, and landed with a thud on the wooden floor of the classroom where they’d left hours earlier. Or had it been a day? Draco could hear hurried footsteps approaching. Next to him, he could feel Potter shivering, his breath coming in panicked gulps.   
“Potter, it’s alright, we’re back,” Draco told him, but Potter seemed to have retreated into his own head. 

“Did he get hurt?” Robards’ urgent voice reminded Draco they weren’t alone anymore. 

“I… I don’t think so, sir.” Draco reluctantly made room for the Head Auror to examine Potter. 

“He’s in shock. Take him to the infirmary.” An assistant hurried to follow the instructions, lifting Potter onto a carrier and levitating him out of the room. Draco made to follow, but Robards stopped him, a hand on his arm. 

“You both passed the test.” Draco couldn’t care less.

“I - sorry, sir, but I want to go with him.”

“Then go.” If Draco hadn’t known better, he would have sworn, he saw a knowing twinkle in the head Auror’s eyes.


	9. Chapter 9

When Draco reached the infirmary, Potter was asleep, courtesy of Madam Pomfrey’s soothing potions. Granger and Weasley came in shortly afterwards. Weasley was limping slightly, and the nurse fussed over his hurt ankle, casting a healing spell on it and dressing it in soaked bandages.

“Trolls,” he explained when he saw Draco’s questioning look. “What happened to Harry?”

“He - we fought inferi in a cave. He was fine, but… once we got back, he just collapsed. I don’t know.”

Granger and Weasley exchanged one of their annoying looks. 

“That was - Draco, did that cave have a lake with an island in the middle?” Granger asked.

“It did. Potter said he’d been there before. Something had been hidden there. He didn’t tell me what.”

“It was something bad, something that belonged to Voldemort. We- Ron, destroyed it. But Draco, that cave, that was… Harry was there with Dumbledore the night Dumbledore got killed.”

Oh. Draco could feel the blood draining from his face. 

“I… I should probably go.” Potter wouldn’t want him here. Draco would only remind him, of what had happened…and... it’d been Draco’s fault.

“No, stay,” Weasley spoke, to Draco’s surprise. “You - you obviously care about him. And he likes you. You may not believe it, but he doesn’t pretend about things like that. You - just stay.”

So Draco stayed. Madam Pomfrey told them Potter would probably only wake up the next morning, but she allowed them to stay by his side, even providing them with stretchers to sleep on if they wished to. Draco couldn’t. He was still reeling from the experience, still shocked and even a little frightened. He sat by Potter’s bedside, leaning his head on his arms and listening to the other boy’s breath, while Weasley and Granger slept, or conversed quietly together. Around two in the morning, it started to rain outside, and the pat-pat-pat of the raindrops helped soothe Draco’s nerves. He’d always loved the sound of rain on a window, it made him feel safe and sheltered. Even with the soothing sound of the rain, he couldn’t sleep.

Weasley was snoring on a stretcher, and Granger had crawled in next to him, dozing in her boyfriend’s arms. Draco yawned. Sleep was starting to tug at him, threatening to finally take him under despite his anxiety, when Potter stirred and Draco sat up, suddenly wide awake and alert. 

“Hey,” Potter’s hushed voice sounded pleased.

“Hello,” Draco replied cautiously, suddenly self-conscious and nervous. This was the chance he’d wanted, right? This was the reason why he had gone to that horrible recruiting event. 

“Are you alright?” Potter asked.

“Fine, Potter. Obviously, I’m better than you,” Draco inwardly slapped himself. Way to go. 

“Heh. Obviously. Merlin, I made a complete fool of myself, didn’t I?”

“I… Not entirely. Robards said we passed the test.”

The smile on Potter’s face was dazzling. 

“I wasn’t talking about the test, but that’s good to know.”

“Potter… I think we need to talk,” Draco blurted it out before he lost his courage.

“Please, call me Harry.”

Draco’s cheeks burned hotly, but he nodded. 

“Right, Pot - Harry. I… I’m sorry I said no. I thought you were having me on. That you were having a laugh with me. Or, that maybe you were interested, but only in… well. A sexual way. Because of what happened the last time we were here, you know, when you thought I was sleeping-” Draco rambled, and Potter had the decency to blush, too. 

“Will you say yes now?”

“I don’t know, Potter, try me.” Draco thought his heart might explode; it was beating so fast.

“Harry, please. Alright, Draco. I like you. I’m not having you on, and I’m interested for a number of reasons. Not just because you’re hot, although that’s certainly a nice bonus. Will you, would you please, go on a date with me?”  
“Only if you promise me it won’t be anywhere near Peeves.”

Potter- Harry, laughed. 

“I promise.” 

Draco smiled, unable to resist. 

“In that case, yes. I would like to go on a date with you, Harry.” Encouraged by the happy grin on the other boy’s face, Draco leaned in, closing the distance between them and pressing his lips against Harry’s. 

“About bloody time,” Weasley’s voice interrupted them before Draco could feel more than a shy kiss back.

“I worked damn hard on that bloody book.”


	10. Epilogue

Draco was breathing heavily. His eyes wide, drinking in the sight before him, he looked up at Potter - Harry, who was pulling his shirt over his head, getting stuck in the collar and cursing. When he emerged, his hair was even more of a mess than usual. It brought a smile to Draco’s lips, a real one, usually so rare but coming out more often around Harry. His brand new boyfriend’s lips were swollen from their thorough make-out session, and his cheeks were flushed. He looked absolutely edible, and Draco’s heart skipped a beat at the knowledge of what they were going to do. 

“You’re sure?” He asked for the third time. 

Harry rolled his eyes.

“Yes, Draco. I’m a hundred percent sure. You?” 

“Fuck yes.”

 

Draco reached up, wrapping his arms around Harry, his hands travelling to his neck and using the hold to pull him closer. Draco leant up to kiss him, deepening the kiss and licked into his mouth, before moving on to nibble at his jawline. Harry moaned, rocking his hips forward - Draco could feel the bulge of his erection brushing against his own. Gods. He wanted him so much. He could feel himself shaking with raw desire. Grabbing hold of Harry’s wrist, he guided his hand to his crotch, surprised by his own boldness. 

“Take it out,” he encouraged Harry, his voice hoarse with arousal. Harry’s touch was hesitant at first, but quickly became more confident, rubbing over the fabric of Draco’s trousers, before unbuttoning his fly. 

“I want to suck you off,” Harry said suddenly, and Draco fell back on his pillows, speechless. A high-pitched sound escaped him when Harry proceeded to free his prick and give it a few quick, clumsy strokes before he moved his body down, and bowed his head over Draco’s cock.

“Merlin, damn, fuck!” Draco cussed, reaching out to grab a hold of Harry’s hair. He was still fully clothed - apart from the fact he’d kicked off his shoes and now his cock was out. He was already starting to overheat, could feel the flush coursing through his whole body at Harry’s ministrations. With his free hand, he more or less ripped the front of his shirt open, buttons flying in all directions, and shrugged that off too. Harry raised his head to give him an appraising look, before continuing what he’d just started. Hot lips engulfed Draco’s cock, and he moaned, his hips bucking upwards. He’d never expected - only dreamt of - Harry sucking his dick. He shivered, briefly imagining what Father would say if he wrote home about this - and quickly pushed that idea to the back of his mind. 

“Potter - Harry, yes!” He bit his lip and forced himself to hold back, to not thrust into Harry’s mouth. This was only their first time together, both of them young and with little experience, and Draco’s rancid fantasies of the past few years would have to wait. 

“Hmmmfgg” Harry agreed, carefully taking him deeper into his mouth. It was so hot, and so forbidden, and Draco couldn’t get enough of it. Sure, he’d tried a few things with Pansy, but this! This with Harry was a million times better. He couldn’t believe it was happening, but it was. They had sneaked into his dormitory just minutes ago, eager and flustered after having spent most of their morning snogging. First in the Infirmary where Harry was released soon after they started. Then while they walked through the castle, pushing each other into alcoves every few hundred meters, encouraged by students, paintings and Peeves. 

“If you boys need more glue, I have lots!” The poltergeist had offered. 

They had mostly ignored him, and the stares, too preoccupied with their exploring. 

“I want more,” Harry’d whispered into his ear, and after that, Draco lost track of where exactly they’d been. He’d just hurried his boyfriend along until they reached the dungeons. 

And now they were here, the doors magically locked, sprawled on Draco’s bed. Draco knew he wouldn’t last long, not with all the excitement of newly reciprocated love and first-time flying hormones. 

“Y-you… Harry, I’m already close,” he warned, stroking through his boyfriend’s hair and twisting one of his own nipples with his free hand. The pleasure was rapidly getting too much. Instead of pulling back, however, Harry only moaned around his cock, and his hand around the base tightened briefly. It was enough to send Draco over the edge, and before he could utter another warning, he was spilling into Harry’s mouth. The dark-haired boy coughed a little, but kept going, sucking Draco’s spunk from the tip of his cock and licking him clean. 

“Fuck, Harry,” Draco panted again, articulate as always. 

“How was I?”

Draco grinned, pulling him up to lay on top of his chest and wrapped his arms around him. 

“Amazing, you’re a natural.”

He could feel Harry’s still rock hard erection slowly rocking against his legs, but he needed a minute to catch his breath. So he stroked his back and kissed his lips, slightly fascinated and yet reluctant to taste himself in Harry’s mouth. 

“Did you enjoy doing that?” He asked curiously. 

“Hmm-hmm,” Harry confirmed. “Although my jaw started to hurt a bit. But I guess that’s a matter of practice.” 

“You can practice all you want,” Draco smirked, this time brave enough to give Harry a deeper kiss. It was strangely arousing to lick his own come from the corner of Harry’s mouth. It was salty, and not much else, but fuck. If he hadn’t just come he might have - just from the fact he was tasting himself on Harry. 

Harry’s breathes were coming faster, and he rocked in against Draco, as he unbuttoned his own fly and pushed his jeans down. Feeling brave, Draco let his hands roam down towards Harry’s buttocks, squeezing his bare flesh and causing Harry to moan as he rocked his erection against Draco’s thigh.

“Do you want to come just like this?” Draco whispered, as he squeezed him again. 

“Fuck, yes,” Harry answered, pressing down against Draco. It was strangely intimate; Harry humping against his upper leg, his own cock still overly sensitive from the orgasm he’d just had, and feeling the muscles in Harry’s bottom tensing and relaxing. 

“I want to fuck you someday,” Harry groaned in Draco’s neck, his movements speeding up. Draco’s heart skipped a beat.

“I’d like that too,” he answered after a second, swallowing dryly. “I want to fuck you, too. And… I want to feel you inside me. I like how hard you are for me right now, Harry.”   
His thumb ran over Harry’s crack. 

“Fuck, Draco…” Harry moaned, and Draco could tell he was getting close. He loved the fact that he was having such an effect on him, while barely even touching him and with but a few clumsily worded encouragements. 

“I want you to come for me,” he whispered, digging his fingers deeper in Harry’s fleshy behind. 

“You’re going to ruin these trousers,” Draco gasped out. “But I don’t care. They’re not mine anyway.” 

Harry made a startled sound of surprise, and came all over Draco’s thigh.

Draco could feel him twitch, the hot sensation of his come spreading over Zabini’s best pair of jeans, staining them with Harry’s spunk. 

“Bloody hell, Draco.”

Draco smiled. 

“Blaise won’t be best pleased, but I am. That was good, wasn’t it?”

“Fuck, shit. Yes… Yes it was.” Harry was grinning.

“Kiss me.” Draco said.

Harry did, still panting.

“Why are you wearing Zabini’s jeans?”

“Because I don’t own any of my own and I needed to look good for Auror recruitment.” 

“Fuck, you did. I love the way your arse looks in them.” 

Draco snorted. 

“Guess I’ll have to find me a pair of my own then. But you won’t get to ruin them.” 

“Hmm, we’ll see about that,” Harry grinned lazily. They kissed again, both lazy and satisfied. For now.

“Want to spend the rest of the day here?” Draco offered. 

“That sounds good. We’ll need to eat, though.” 

“Let’s just ask your elf… what’s his name? The ugly one?”

“Kreacher?” Harry frowned slightly.

“Yes, that one. What?”

“Er… well. I guess you’re right. He’s ugly. But he has a name.” 

“Yeah, I know now. Can you tell him to bring us some food?”

“I’m not sure. He’s not always cooperative.” 

Draco shrugged.

“We’ll see then. I still want to do some more… more.”

Harry’s face brightened. 

“Yeah, me too. More more. Soon.” 

They didn’t emerge from the room until dinnertime. Once they did, nobody appeared to be surprised when they sat down together at the Gryffindor table. 

“Where’s that book, Ron?” Harry demanded. 

“I think Draco and I have a story to add.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all of you lovely readers! This was it - the fic that's cost me a year of my life, haha! I hope you enjoyed it! Thank you for the kudos and all the lovely comments! I'm so happy so many of you seemed to enjoy reading, especially when I had started to doubt every decision I made. 
> 
> Please don't hestitate to leave another one of your sweet comments under here, I love every single one! <3 Thank you for your time!


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